Five Ways Spike Didn't Ask Winnie Out (And The One Time She Said Yes)
by riveroad
Summary: Fairly self-explanatory and total fluff. Rated for language.


Five

"Who's the new girl?" Spike asked, leaning back off the bike to peer at who was sitting behind the desk. "No more Kira?"

"Her mom's sick. Saskatoon. She doesn't know if she's going to be coming back at all so they had to hire someone real fast."

"How do you even know that?" he asked, sitting back on the bike and staring at Jules who was starting a fast jog. "Geez, you go on vacation for six days, come back and everything's different."

"She's good," Sarge interrupted their conversation. "Inexperienced but good."

"Huh." Spike leaned back off his bike to take another look. She was pretty. If you liked nice skin, nice eyes and long dark hair.

He stopped by the desk after a shower and change of clothes (in his experience, a uniform that was mostly kevlar tended to make a better impression than a t-shirt with sweat cooling on it). He'd done some recon too, obviously; knew that Winnie Camden was super green when it came to this job, drank a lot of coffee and owned a hair straightener (he'd looked that part up himself, figured the picture on her driver's license with a mass of dark curls was fairly current), "Hey New Girl."

She glanced up, all dark eyes and a raised eyebrow and he almost had to take a step back. Yikes. Talk about intimidating. "Hey." She nodded and held out her hand. "I'm Winnie."

Small hands, slim fingers, slim wrists, he categorized. She had a hell of a firm shake though, Jesus. "Spike." For a second, he wondered if he should have used his real name, had gotten some really weird responses to 'Spike' in the past.

This girl though - didn't even flinch, just smiled pleasantly at him. Nice smile. Good teeth. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise. Uh, so I guess we'll be working together."

She gave him a look that made him feel like a bit of an idiot followed by that pleasant smile again. "Looks like it."

"Well. Welcome to the SRU." As he walked away, he couldn't help but steal a glance back, intrigued in a way he couldn't explain.

"What are you doing?" Jules crossed her arms, looked pointedly at his computer screen.

"Just getting some intel on the newest member of the SRU. Same as I'd do for anyone else."

She snorted. "Yeah? Guess it helps if they're female, huh?"

"I'm just interested, being a good teammate."

"Spike-"

"Same as I did for…Sam. You know the newest member of our team, don't you?"

That shut her up. "Okay, carry on."

He turned back to his screen grinning.

He stopped by her desk again at the end of shift, drummed on the top of it until she looked up. "Hi." Again with the smile. Her face was remarkably well designed.

"Hi Spike."

"Wanna get a drink? Celebrate your first day at the SRU?"

Her smile got bigger and he watched in fascination. "It's not my first day."

"First day with me," he said with what he hoped was a winning smile. "So? What do you say? My treat."

Four

It wasn't like Spike hadn't realized Winnie was good-looking. And it certainly wasn't like he hadn't noticed that she was funny and sweet and kind of let him be him without doing the eye-rolling thing girls usually did when he started talking. Lew liked her, thought she had a good sense of humour, always said she was a 'nice girl'. Spike scoffed. Lew probably wasn't thinking about what was under that uniform though.

Not that he was. You know. Much.

Sarge had insisted that their dispatchers be invited to their Christmas get together, always tried to remind them about the kind of thankless job it was. At the time he'd instituted _that _rule, it had been a guy named Brian who Spike had always thought was a little slow. Like, sometimes they had to send him a screen cap of what a blue sedan looked like, kind of slow.

Anyhow. Now it was Winnie and she was wearing a red dress that skimmed her hips and made him think about things he wouldn't have let himself think about if he weren't four and a half beers into the evening (not his fault. Sophie Lane always made sure Ed's team had a drink in hand. He'd heard a story about a dry Christmas Party from years before he'd started - Sophie probably had too).

Sam was hitting on their main dispatcher (and honestly, thought Spike, who did he think he was fooling? Like the whole team didn't already know that he and Jules were doing it) and she was giving him this look like she knew what he was trying to accomplish and because she didn't like making people feel bad, she'd stand there and take it.

Lost in thought, Spike didn't notice Lew until his best friend thumped him on the back, waited for him to turn around and then gave him a sharp look. "Maybe you should just ask her out."

"What? Who? What now?"

Lew just got a look like he wanted to roll his eyes at him but wasn't going to.

"It's not like that," Spike said trying a different tactic.

"You aren't that good of an actor," his friend said, giving into the eye roll. "Furthermore, it's incredibly obvious to the rest of us."

Spike considered that for a moment. "Huh. Okay. What about this one: she doesn't like me."

"What's not to like?" Lew said with a huge grin on his face.

"Come on. We work together. How many shades of awkward will it be if I have to see her tomorrow morning after she's turned me down?"

"Or how great if it all goes well and you guys come in together?"

Spike opened his mouth, mentally preparing to defend Winnie's honour but saw the smirk on Lew's face at the last moment. "I hate you."

"My heart's breaking."

"I can't just...go _up_ to her. It's so-"

"Normal?"

"I was going to say, creepy."

Lew snorted. "Just walk up to her. Say hi. Tell her she looks nice. Be your usual cheese ball self and just do it."

"Thanks. Thanks for that. Really helpful."

Spike waited several more hours, biding his time (Lew told him he was being a chicken-shit more than once) and then caught her when she was coming out of the bathroom, just the two of them in the Lanes' small hallway.

"Hey Spike." She gave him that grin, the one that always made him feel like his heart had dropped into his stomach and his stomach had dropped into his feet.

He smiled down at her, thought that she looked even prettier with a flush on her cheeks and then threw caution to the wind and kissed her. She froze, he definitely felt that. But he also felt her tentatively kiss him back before he pulled away. So. Maybe Lew had been right. He released her and then pointed up at the ceiling. "Mistletoe."

She looked up, laughed like everything was suddenly making sense, squeezed his arm and was about to walk past when he realized that she was about to leave and his chance was pretty much about to leave with her. He put out his other hand just in front of her waist, stopped her.

He cleared his throat and said, "Actually, I should probably tell you that I moved that from the doorway of the kitchen. And that I think you're gorgeous. I mean, now, yes. But every other day too."

She looked shocked. But also, a little bit pleased. That was good. It meant he didn't have to murder Lew later.

"You wanna go out some time?"

Three

He and Mac didn't usually frequent bars in The Annex - too many college kids getting shit-faced and making out.

But they'd just found out the guy's wife was dying and Spike really didn't think Mac cared where they were right then.

He scratched at the back of his head, fiddled with his glass and then finally just said, "Mac, please talk to me."

"You wanna talk about your feelings, Michelangelo?"

"No," he retorted, "I'd like to talk about yours."

"She was sick. Now she's sicker. It's not over yet."

"Mac..."

"I don't know what else there is to say, Spike. I'm fine. I'll _be_ fine. It's Leslie I'm worried about."

Spike jiggled his knee and then asked, "Why? She's clean, isn't she?"

Mac shot him a look.

"Come on. You know I know. I've picked her up strung out too many times _not_ to know."

"Yes. She's clean." Mac sighed, took a sip of his drink and then very purposely put it back down. "For now. I got her a car. Used. Nothing fancy. Listen, she's gonna need someone to take a look at it. Check the brakes and whatever."

"I'm your guy."

"Thanks."

Spike sighed, rubbed a hand over his face and looked around, tried to find a neutral topic to talk about. His eyes fell on a pretty girl two tables down, a cascade of dark curls falling in her face. She was standing up, laughing and glaring at two of the guys on the other side of the table. Tight t-shirt and jeans. He liked her mouth, found the corners of his turning up a little as he watched her.

"Who in the hell are you looking at like that?" Mac said, trying to turn around and follow his gaze.

"Huh? No one."

Mac snorted, turned his head to look. "Which one?"

He rubbed at his temple and then sighed. "Tight shirt."

Mac shot him a look. "We're in UofT central on a Thursday night. Everyone's wearing a tight shirt."

Spike motioned with his beer bottle, took a huge sip. "Dark curly hair."

"Ah."

"Ah? That all you got?"

"She's young enough to be my daughter." He surveyed the man who'd once been his rookie, green as they come and so over-eager. "You should go talk to her."

"What? No. Plus, I'm here with you."

Mac sighed. "I appreciate what you're trying to do. But my problems aren't going to be solved over a beer at The Brunny. Thank god."

Spike made a face at him.

"Go on. I should be getting home anyway."

"Mac-"

"Spike. Go."

As he got closer, he could hear the girl telling both of the laughing guys she was with that they were both idiots, and there was no way, no how, she'd be playing pool with either one of them, not after that comment. She had a huge grin on her face, white teeth on display and clearly, something in the universe had decided to go right for him for once because the three people she was sitting with got up and headed to the pool table, leaving her on her own.

"Hey." As far as greetings went, it left a lot to be desired.

She glanced up at him. "Hi."

"I'm Spike." He couldn't remember when he'd gotten into the habit of introducing himself by his nickname but, if it was possible to believe, it got a couple less raised eyebrows than his actual name.

"Winnie." She surveyed him, glanced at the door and then at her friends and he could practically see her searching for an escape route if he turned out to be a psycho. It made him smile. "You wanna sit down?"

He took a seat, thought the light smattering of freckles on her nose just made her even more attractive. "So. Winnie. Go to school around here?"

She raised an eyebrow, like she found him a little bit amusing but didn't want to say so and said, "Nope, just came down to meet some friends." She gave him that mildly amused look again. "What about you?"

"Nope. Just came down to meet a friend."

She raised an eyebrow in challenge. "And what do you do?"

"I'm a cop."

Usually, girls found that impressive. Usually, girls liked it. From experience, he'd found that usually, that alone was enough to get a girl talking. Winnie didn't really look enthused, just smiled at him politely. "Oh yeah? What division?"

"Uh, 52." He wondered when he'd lost the upper hand in this conversation, assuming, of course that he'd actually ever had it.

Weirdly enough, that was when she started to look vaguely impressed, just for a second, before she schooled her features back. "Huh. I heard they just finished a gang raid in Chinatown."

He couldn't hide his smile at that, wondered where she got her headlines. "Yeah. Yeah, that was us. How'd you know about that?"

She had the good grace to flush. "I'm a 911 dispatcher."

He stared at her and couldn't stop the grin from forming on his face. "Cheater."

She laughed, eyes dancing. "Totally."

"How long have you been doing that?"

"A while," she said, raising her eyebrows at him. "How long have you been a cop?"

"A while," he mimicked.

She laughed. "And? Thinking about going out for Detective?"

He smiled. "Thinking about the bomb squad, actually,"

"Ah, explosions eh? Sounds electrifying," she said sarcastically.

"Oh yeah. I like things that go boom." He matched her tone, shot her a grin.

"What guy doesn't?" She looked amused, showing him a row of even, white teeth.

He cleared his throat. "CSIS has been calling." He hadn't told anyone that, not even Mac.

"For what?"

He shrugged. "I'm not bad with a computer."

She raised her eyebrows. "Well well. Maybe I misjudged you, Spike."

"Yeah? What did you think?"

"That you were a step up from brainless, using your badge to pick me up," she said bluntly. She looked decidedly more friendly now. "No SRU for you?"

He grinned. "I'm not much for talking."

"So typical. Of a guy," she said, leaned closer. "Although, you know, those SRU uniforms are really something."

"Really."

She sat back, flipped her hair at him. "Really."

He couldn't keep the smile off his face now. "So. Can I get your number? I mean," he shook his head at her, "pretty much I can find it anyhow but you know, I'd like to be polite."

She laughed, reached into her purse for a pen and wrote it on a napkin. "You shouldn't lose that - I might come looking for you if you never call. How many guys called Spike can there be at 52?"

He wanted to tell her that he hoped so, wanted to make a joke about her in a cop shop but he just found that he felt weirdly serious. He folded the napkin up and put it in the inside pocket of his jacket. "I won't lose it."

Two

"What do you mean?" Leah was standing next to his open locker, mouth agape, bottle of Tylenol still half way to his hand.

"What do you mean, what do I mean? We ran into each other, caught up, she came over, that was that."

"No," she said with all the air of someone talking to a particularly naughty toddler, "I mean, what do you mean you _slept_ with her?"

He shot her a look that told her exactly what he thought of her question. "It was an accident."

"How do you _accidentally_ sleep with someone?"

He glared at her, pulling off his jeans and shirt before answering her. "I don't know, okay? I hadn't seen her since she left. Since Lew...look, she was there, she looked good, we just...what do you want me to say? Also, don't feel like you have to turn around or anything, I'm just getting naked over here." He pulled on his uniform scowling.

She looked at him pointedly before snorting and shaking the Tylenol in his face. "You were drunk is what you mean."

He sighed, sat down on the bench to lace up his boots. "I wasn't that drunk. We were just…up late."

"Was she drunk?"

He glanced at her.

Leah let out a whoop that echoed around the empty locker room like a bullet.

"Ow. Can you not?"

"So then what happened this morning?"

He rolled his eyes at her. "This morning I made her breakfast and walked her home. The end."

"You made her _breakfast_?!" She let out a whistle through her teeth. "Well damn. That's the big leagues."

"What was I going to do, kick her out the door?"

She frowned at him, studying his face and then raised her voice a little. "Ha! Wordy owes me five bucks."

"For what?"

"I told him you guys were into each other. Obviously he didn't think much of your chances." She reached out and patted him consolingly on the arm. "I had your back though, don't worry."

"You told him I-well that's just great. Do I even want to know what the two of you were doing discussing my love-life?"

"So you're in love with her now," she said grinning broadly.

"Oh shut up. I don't know."

"You going to see her again?"

"I don't know."

"You going to call her?"

"I don't know."

She huffed. "Is there anything you _do_ know?"

"I had a great night?"

"Disgusting. Stop it. I don't want to hear anymore," she said pulling a face.

"Like I was going to kiss and tell anyhow."

He slammed his locker door closed and winced before taking the bottle from her and shaking two into his palm.

She watched him swallow them dry before she said, "I think you should call her. Like. Now. Before she thinks you're a scumbag."

"She's not going to think I'm a scumbag."

"I promise you, she is."

He gave her an impatient look before pulling his phone out of his pocket and dialing.

Leah leered at him like the cat that had swallowed the canary. "She always been on your speed dial?"

He gave her a filthy look before the call connected. "Don't you have somewhere else to be? Uh. Oh hey. Winnie. It's uh. It's me. Spike" He rubbed a hand over his face and the back of his head, turning to glare daggers at Leah before continuing to speak. "Listen I uh...had a great time last night." He ignored Leah's pointed snort. "And I was thinking. Maybe we can get together again. Um. For dinner. Like. Tonight."

Leah rolled her eyes at his more-than-eager time frame and then watched his face relax into a goofy grin before he said, "That's great. I'll pick you up. Yeah. Yeah. Okay. See you later."

She sniggered childishly, waiting for him to hang up before saying, "And _that_ is why you should always listen to me."

"Oh shut up," he said. unable to hide his wide smile. "Now can we go out there or is there something else you'd like to try and be right at?"

She held the door open with a huge smirk on her face and widened her eyes at him. "After you, Officer Scarlatti."

One

Spike glanced at the girl to his left. "You know, I should have said this earlier but, um. You look really beautiful." She did too, hair loose down her back, eyes bigger than he'd ever seen them, the multi-coloured lights from the dance floor reflecting off her skin.

She blushed, before turning to slap at him ineffectively with her napkin. "Stop buttering me up. I'm not going to forget who owes who, here. You can bring my fries in on our next shift. And they should be hot. Lots of ketchup."

He snorted, tried to pretend that was why he'd said it. "Damn. Fine. Remind me not to bet on who will ask who to get married next time."

Winnie laughed, straightening the skirt of her dark purple dress and taking a sip of wine. "You went against tradition. It was cute. Wrong. But cute."

"How was I supposed to know this would be the one time - _the one time_ - that Jules decides to be a huge girl and let Sam get down on one knee? How?"

"And you call yourself a profiler."

"I'll have you know that I'm very good at other things too," he retorted, making a face when he realized what he'd implied.

"Yeah. Every guy says that," she said, snickering.

"Ugh. Fine. Whatever. Wanna get cake?"

"Do I ever say no to cake?"

He took her hand and helped her to her feet, waiting while she adjusted her right shoe. They each selected a slice (she snatched the biggest piece right from under his nose), before taking their seats once more.

"I really do think you look beautiful," he said, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

She paused, forkful of cake almost to her mouth. "Oh. Um. Thanks." She chewed and swallowed before saying, "I think you look pretty great too. You forget sometimes what someone looks like out of uniform."

"Been spending much time imagining me out of uniform?"

"I walked right into that, didn't I?" She made a face and then took another bite, licking the frosting off her fork absent-mindedly. "Pretty amazing, isn't it? All of this."

He glanced around, eyes falling on where Sam was sitting at the next table over with his sister, Jules in white, perched on his lap, their fingers interlaced. "Yeah. Yeah, it is."

"What's happening with you and Nat?" she asked around another mouthful, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand when he made a face at her.

"Absolutely and entirely nothing," he said. "Wasn't really serious anyhow. Don't know if I'm actually her type. She uh, didn't find me too funny."

Winnie snorted. "What's not to find funny?"

"Aw, I knew you loved me."

She rolled her eyes and then looked at him seriously. "Well. Either way. I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "What can you do." He took a bite of cake. "What about you? Still seeing that Bay St guy?"

She made a face. "God no. No no no. You know, he had the nerve to tell me I work too much? Talk about rude."

"People, eh?"

"Can't live with 'em, can't live with 'em."

Spike laughed, watched Winnie scrape her fork across her plate to get all the icing off of it, shook his head when she glanced at his. "Want mine?" he asked patiently.

She gave him a good-natured eye roll before leaning over to finish his icing. He watched her face as she did, thought how ridiculous it was that you could see someone every single day and still have no idea what they really looked like, that the Winnie who was sitting one seat over, slender arm reaching out with her fork, sounded like the Winnie he knew, had the same wit and humour but looked completely different.

"You wanna dance?"

"Sure. But you'd better keep your hands to yourself," she said grinning widely and getting to her feet. "I saw you with Sam's mother earlier, don't think I didn't."

"She tripped!"

Winnie was cackling as he caught up to her, slid a hand onto her waist and placed one of hers firmly on his shoulder.

"So childish," he said with a sigh which just served to set her off even more.

Sarge raised an eyebrow as he and Marina danced past them, a funny look on his face that Spike couldn't decipher. Not a bad look, he thought, trying to break it down. But a weird look, like he'd just seen something and realized it was important.

"How come you didn't bring anyone?"

The question startled him a little, made him grip her waist a little tighter before he shrugged. "Like who? Seemed to make sense to keep it in the family, anyhow."

She smiled at him, on eye level with him in her heels. "Yeah. I know." She looked away and then back, eyes dancing. "So whose idea do you think it was to have like six slow songs in a row?"

He laughed as another one started, pulled her closer to him. "Probably Sam's."

"Awful," she said between snickers. "You're awful."

"But probably accurate."

They danced in silence for a couple minutes, until the song was almost over and then Spike said, "Hey Win?"

"Hmm?"

"You wanna go out sometime?"

She raised one of those perfect eyebrows at him. "This better not be your lame attempt to get out of bringing me those fries," she said, her words teasing. Her eyes though - her eyes looked pretty serious to him.

"It's not."

"Huh."

The song finished, a faster one (finally) starting and he still had his arms around her, thought it might be a good sign that her left hand was still warm against his shoulder.

"Um."

"Um?"

"You realize that if you screw it up, I know where you work. Right?"

He laughed at the unexpected response. "The thought has crossed my mind."

"You should probably call me tomorrow," she said, eyes narrowing at him. "So that I know that's not just the cake talking."

"It's not just the cake talking," he said quietly, eyes on hers. "But I'll call you tomorrow. Ask you again."

And The One Time She Said Yes

"So. Winnie." He leaned his elbows on the top of her desk, looked at her, smiling when she looked up at him.

"Spike. How's it going?"

He could see her trying not to smile; which was kind of a shame. Every time he thought about packing in the towel when it came to her, he'd think of that smile and figure it couldn't hurt to keep trying. Winnie trying to hide a smile meant she thought he was worth smiling _at - _and that, he could work with. He grinned at her. "Still got that rule against dating cops?"

She snorted, gave in and grinned back at him. "You know, you ask me this every single shift. And every single shift, I say the exact same thing."

"You do," he nodded, thought about keeping it light, the way he always did, and then thought about doing something else entirely. "But. I'm hoping for the one day when you say something different. When you realize that I can make you laugh way more than any other guy out there. When you realize that I think you are the most incredible girl I've ever met, that I just want to be with you. When you see that I'll do whatever it takes to make you change your mind. I'm hoping for the day when you take me seriously. But. Until then. I'm good asking you the same question after every single shift."

She stared at him, mouth slightly open and he grinned at her.

"Have a good night, Winnie."

Leah flashed him a thumbs up as she walked past him on her way to the locker room. He shrugged at her, headed for the elevator. There was always tomorrow.

"Hey, Spike," Winnie called, standing up and leaning over the desk to look at him. "You serious about all that stuff that just came out of your mouth?"

He paused, turned back to her. This wasn't how this conversation usually went and he didn't want to get his hopes up that this time was going to be anything different. "Deadly."

"Oh." She looked adorably confused, mouth pursed slightly like she was considering something. Slowly, he walked back towards the desk. "Deadly serious," she muttered to herself.

He raised his eyebrows then forced himself to look neutral. "I am."

She nodded at him slowly. "Okay. Okay."

"Okay?" Was she saying what he thought she was saying? After all this time? This was just so far out of the realm of what he'd imagined happening today. He'd had no prior warning that all it would take was a little seriousness, no warning that she would ever say yes, had just figured that you don't let the perfect woman get away just because she'd said 'no' the first few (read: hundred) times.

She bit down on her bottom lip, looked deep in thought for a moment and he held his breath. "Yes. Yes. I would love to go out with you."

Spike knew he was grinning like an idiot, knew it when she looked at him and then looked away, colour flooding her cheeks but he couldn't really find it in him to care. "Like tonight?"

She gaped at him. "What?"

He shrugged, tried and failed to hide his smile. "Don't want to give you a chance to talk yourself out of it."

"I'm not going to-okay. Wow. Tonight. Um. I-"

"I can wait until you're finished."

She laughed and shook her head at him. "Okay. If you're sure-"

"I'm sure."

She turned back to her work looking like she was trying to hide her smile but when she met him out front thirty-seven minutes later, she was grinning as widely as he was.

"Where do you want to go?" she asked, pushing a few strands of hair out of her face.

He shrugged, smiled down at her. "Wherever you are is fine with me."


End file.
